


Clarity

by Trash



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: As well as angst, F/M, M/M, Unrequited love ish, and a touch of dubious consent stirred in for seasoning, and sexuality issues, with hints of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things go well for them both, until it doesn't. Until Chris meets Elsa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarity

**Author's Note:**

> For Ella. About [this picture](http://arethosepyjamapants.tumblr.com/post/69770814947/thebollyknickers-i-found-this-on-pinterest)

Tom isn’t shy – drama school forbids you to be – but meeting people is still a daunting prospect that he dreads. Pre-audition nerves cannot compare to the anxiety he gets when he is introduced to somebody new. Luckily he has a pretty decent poker face. It isn’t the people themselves – the importance of getting along with people is another thing drama school drilled into him – it’s the questions they ask one another as they get to know each other.

This dread surfaced the day he met Chris Hemsworth. Or maybe it was something else. He strode over to Tom, his smile contagious and genuine. Tom stuck out his hand to shake and Chris’ larger hand swallowed it whole. “I’m Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris. I’m Tom."

It was immediately obvious why Chris had been cast as Thor, he _was_ Thor. He was exactly who Tom had pictured when he spent his evenings reading _Odin’s Family_ by Neil Philip. His voice made him think of thunder. They didn’t struggle find things to talk about, their mutual excitement and appreciation for the break they had gotten was enough to keep conversation flowing for days, but eventually it turned to the same old thing that Tom dreaded.

“One of the great things about being single is being able to do this,” Chris said, gesturing around the beach bar they were sitting in.

Tom laughed. “Yeah, it’s quite different from London in February. And I doubt there’s anywhere on the British coast with a bar open like this.”

“And there’s nobody to worry about leaving behind. I don’t think I’d be able to enjoy it as much, you know?”

Tom hummed in agreement and sipped his beer.

“Are you single, Tom?”

Conveniently still taking a drink Tom shook his head.

“Girlfriend? Wife?”

Setting down his drink Tom tried to choose his words carefully. He could feel his heart racing in his chest and he tried to calm himself down. “No. I...there’s...a guy, in London. But it’s nothing serious.”

“You’re gay?” Chris asked, his voice irritatingly void of any emotion.

“Yeah.”

Chris laughed, then, and it startled Tom so much he almost dropped his pint. “Sorry, mate, I thought you were going to tell me your wife had died or something the way you were going on.”

Tom blushed and smiled, “I’m still not used to people not thinking it’s something out of the ordinary.”

“It’s 2009,” Chris laughed, nudging Tom with his elbow. “If people still think being gay is out of the ordinary in 2009 they should be stoned to death.”

The subject was never discussed again so bluntly, save for the occasional ribbing Tom got from Chris about his on-again-off-again relationship with the mysterious man in London. Chris found him one day staring intently at the blank screen of his mobile phone and raised an eyebrow. He crossed the gym, leaning against the treadmill Tom had stood stock-still on for the last ten minutes. “Boy troubles?”

“I text him three days ago. We’re not serious, you know? It’s always just been a bit of convenient fun, but still...”

“You never talk about him. What’s his name?”

“Ben. He’s an actor, too. He’s probably just busy,” Tom said, feeling the need to justify himself.

Chris snatched the phone from his hand and scrolled through the contact list, hitting the ‘call’ button and handing it back to Tom with a defiant smile. “It’s ringing.”

Tom hurried out of the gym the second Ben answered and squinted against the midday sun. When the call connected Ben didn’t speak, and Tom hesitated. “Hi, love.”

“Tom! I’m just in the middle of something, can I ring you back?”

Turns out the something he was in the middle of was two other men, neither of whom were going to be in America for an undetermined amount of time. Tom trudged back into the gym to find Chris doing push ups.

“Will you hold up those punch pads, Chris?” Tom asked, throwing his mobile onto the bench.

“Yeah sure,” Chris did one last push up and got to his feet, grabbing the pads and bracing himself. Tom grabbed the light sparring gloves and let rip. Wincing as one of the hits grazed the pads and almost hit him in the face Chris said, “So...is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I’m single. Everything is fan-bloody-tastic.” Tom punctuated each word with a hard punch.

Chris dropped his hands and Tom swung for him, hesitating at the last minute and falling into Chris’ arms with a noise of surprise. “This is no way to deal with being dumped, mate,” Chris said.

“Whatever do you have in mind, Mr Hemsworth?”

Shots. Flaming sambucas, drop shots with glitter in them, spirits that tasted like ice cream, spirits that tasted like poison, anything they could drink. It wasn’t long until Tom was a mess, his face flushed red and his t-shirt on backwards.

“How have you managed this?” Chris laughed, dragging a giggling Tom outside with him.

“Was too hot. Was just too hot. Hey, why is everything you say a question?”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“You. Aussies. Whenever you talk...the inflection in your voice makes everything sound like a question?” Tom said, doing his best impression of Chris, before falling flat on his arse and laughing hysterically. Chris gathered him in his arms and they walked back to the house they were renting together, the pair of them laughing the entire way.

Back at the house Chris helped Tom up the stairs to his room and dropped him unceremoniously on the bed, both of them still giggling but trying not to wake up any of the others. Chris knelt by the bed, pulling off Tom’s shoes.

“Are you undressing me, Mr Hemsworth?”

“Yes. Now shut the fuck up and stay still.” Once he was down to just his underwear Chris helped Tom under the covers. “Promise not to choke on your own vomit in the night?”

Tom tried to hold up three fingers but couldn’t get his little finger to stay down. “Scouts’ honour,” he said. “Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?”

Chris laughed. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah. But you really are beautiful.”

Chris smiled softly, affectionately, and stroked some of Tom’s hair from his face. “You’re not so bad yourself, Mr Hiddleston.”

“Can I have a kiss?” Tom said before he could stop himself. He waited, expecting a punch in the face, but instead he got Chris’ lips brushing against his softly in a did-that-really-happen kind of way.

“Goodnight, Tom.”

Tom blushed bright red and tried to form words, but instead he murmured something incoherent and passed out.

They didn’t talk about it. Neither of them mentioned it, and then it went so long without being brought up that it became more and more awkward a subject to broach. It wasn’t until he and Chris were discussing their characters that it became a topic of conversation. 

"This scene," Chris said, shaking his head, "this scene is just the most frustrating thing ever." 

Tom looked over from where he lay on his stomach in the grass. They had wanted to go to the beach but it was too crowded, so they opted for lying by the pool of the house instead. "This one? Really?"

"Yeah. I want to like, reach in and punch Thor in the face." Chris sat up and put the script in his own shadow to study it closer. "He has just done everything Odin told him not to."

"Yeah, but only because Loki led him there," Tom pointed out. "But it hasn't exactly worked out for him, either, because now he has a lot to deal with rather than getting the pat on the head he was expecting. I don't think he even thought Odin would banish Thor, he just wanted to be acknowledged."

"So it was a whole lot of attention seeking on Loki's part?"

"Sort of. Affirmation seeking, I think. But now..." Tom trailed off, shrugged. "He’s pretty confident by now that he is a Frost Giant, and he wonders how long he can keep that a secret from Thor because Thor hates them, hates all of them, so he would surely tar Loki with that same brush. He is Jotun – he is the enemy.”

Chris looked over at him but Tom wouldn't meet his eyes. 

"And Odin knows. That's what is worse. Odin knows fine well that Loki is not of the Aesir, but he has let him live this lie and still told him horror stories about the Frost Giants. And now he has to come to terms with it. And his brother might...he doesn't have anyone else. He had no idea what he was doing."

"Tom?" Chris reached out, surprised to find Tom trembling slightly. "You okay, mate?"

When Tom finally looked up to meet his eyes he was near tears, blushing and mortified. "Sorry."

"Where is this coming from?"

Tom wiped his eyes angrily with the back of his hand. "Loki realising he is different and being terrified of ostracisation. That hits a little too close to home for me."

Chris didn't ask any more questions, and when he moved closer to kiss him Tom didn't protest.

***

They didn't flaunt it, but they weren't secretive, and eventually it was Kat who said something. 

"You're doing it, aren't you?" She said. 

Tom looked at her with genuine confusion. 

"You and Steve Urwin, you're totally bumping uglies aren't you?"

"I suppose that's one way to put it."

Kat beamed. "Awesome. Nat owes me ten bucks."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Were you betting on us?"

"No. Well. Yes. It was more of...a sweepstake. I had you down as sucking face with Chris."

"And what about Natalie?"

"She thought you'd get it on with Josh."

Tom laughed. "Can I tell him that?"

***

Things were fine. Until they weren't. Until Chris met Elsa. 

It was their first week of filming and Tom was exhausted. He was looking forward to going back to the house with Chris and having sex until one or both of them passed out. It took him a frustratingly long amount of time to get out of his costume and, by the time he had, Chris was nowhere to be seen. 

Tom promised himself he would just read his pages for tomorrow's shooting and get an early night, but he didn't see the problem with having a glass of wine or two. Or three. Or maybe a bottle. It's just one bottle, after all. He wasn't hammered when Chris got back, but he was drunk enough to be belligerent. 

Chris crept into the bedroom and seemed surprised to see Tom sitting shirtless on the bed with his script in one hand and an almost empty bottle of red wine in the other. He laughed and pulled off his shirt. "Hard at work, or hardly working?"

Tom smiled. "Where've you been? I waited for you."

"I went out for dinner," Chris said, his back to Tom as he undressed. 

"Yeah." Tom leaned over and put the bottle of wine on the floor, dumping his script beside it. "Elsa, right? That's her name?"

"Tom..."

"We never said we were exclusive. We've never even said we were anything, really. So I'm not mad about that. Just...please don't stand me up again."

Chris nodded. "I won't," he said. 

***

To Chris' credit he never stood Tom up again, and Tom settled into his roll as second fiddle easily. They both knew as soon as principal photography was over and the press junket tour was done they'd be going their separate ways. 

Chris often told Tom how long it would take for him to fly to London from Australia. "I would, though," he said, "I would do that. I could...there's plenty of work in London."

Tom would smile and indulge him, recalling stories of RADA and some of the rougher theatres he had played at when he was younger. "They would call us to a meeting in the green room, which was nothing more than a disgusting couch and I always wondered how many people shagged on it."

Chris laughed. "Is that how you landed Loki?"

Tom thumped him in the arm. "You're one to talk, your audition probably consisted of nothing more than wandering around topless handling your hammer."

Tom can remember exactly where he was when he got the phone call to say that Chris and Elsa were getting married. He was in his flat and it was raining and he suddenly felt the distance between Australia and London more keenly than he ever had. He was surprised when the phone rang, and couldn't find the congratulatory words he wanted to say.

"Tom. You there?"

"Yeah. I'm happy for you both. That's amazing news," Tom said eventually, and he was surprised at how sincere he sounded.

The press tour made it easy to keep his distance. It was different sleeping with Chris when they were both single, it was hard work when he started seeing Elsa, and now Tom refused to even touch him if he could help it. Second fiddle, yes, home wrecker, no.

Throughout filming Avengers, though, they were drawn to one another like magnets. Chris made it such hard work, until Tom felt almost bullied into it. Almost, but not entirely. They were late for makeup on more than one occasion because Chris had Tom pinned down on the floor of his trailer as he fucked him relentlessly. 

He knew he was playing with fire, but Chris wouldn't keep his hands off him. One night in the shared house Chris crept into Tom's room after Scarlett had demanded they all go to bed, slipping under the covers with him. He cuddled up close to Tom's back and simply held him, pressed gentle kisses to the nape of his neck. Tom moaned. 

"I love you," Chris said. 

Tom rolled over to look at him. "You don't have to say that to me to get what you want."

Chris looked hurt. "Is that really what you think this is?"

Tom wasn't sure anymore, so he answered with a desperate kiss. 

***

Things were fine. Until they weren't. Until Elsa got pregnant. 

Tom managed to school his expression into one of elation at the news and joined the rest of the cast in touching her stomach in a way that would be considered assault under different circumstances. Chris smiles at him, and Tom wondered if he had any idea at all. 

Chris found him later and pinned him to the wall with all of his weight, kissing him deeply and desperately whispering apologies. Tom didn't want a pity fuck, but Chris soon overpowered him and his refusal died on his lips with a moan. 

They didn't explicitly say it was over, but they both knew it was. Filming wrapped, India was born, they went their separate ways. It all seemed too easy. 

He kept his distance, spent a lot of time with Tilda when he wasn't onset for Only Lovers Left Alive. She found him intolerable. 

"I am starting to wonder if you are a method actor. Or perhaps you really are just as mopey as Adam."

Tom wanted to argue but he couldn't, not with Tilda, who looked as if she knew it all already. 

The Dark World premiere was pretty horrible, but Tom managed to smile through it. It would be hard not to with so many people screaming for him. He could take his pick of any of them, but the only person he wanted was out of his reach now. 

It's been almost two weeks since the premiere, since he last saw Chris, and time hasn't been kind to him. Neither has his schedule, but at least he has work. For all the issues the Thor franchise has caused him with his life, it has certainly opened up a lot of doors.

He is sitting on the sofa with a script in had and a cup of tea in the other feeling thoroughly sorry for himself when the buzzer goes. He heaves himself up with a sigh and goes to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Tom, it's me."

"Chris? What are you doing here?"

"Well, loitering outside your flat like a creep. Will you sign my underwear, Loki?"

Tom laughs and buzzes him in, aware that his flat looks like a fucking bomb has been dropped on it and that he looks like he hasn't slept in months. Tough shit, he thinks, opening the door when he hears Chris' footsteps in the hall. 

"Hi."

Tom feels physically sick. "You look...great. Casual Friday?" 

Chris laughs. "Shut up. I'm allowed to wear sweat pants whenever I like."

Tom cocks his head. "I agree. Your arse looks fabulous, darling."

"Do you want to go on a date?"

"Is this one of your jokes I don't get?" Tom asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. 

"No. I'm being serious," Chris pulls two cinema tickets out of his pocket and smiles. 

"Is that why you're here?"

"I miss you."

Tom sighs. "Don't. What about Elsa?"

"I just want you to come see the movie with me. I asked you when we first started filming, remember?"

Tom does. He can remember Chris sitting beside him in a script meeting. One hand under the table rubbing Tom through his jeans until he was hard and couldn't focus. He asked him then, right before Tom came in his pants, and of course Tom said yes. 

"Okay," Tom relents, not in the mood to argue. "Fine. What time?"

Chris looks at his bare wrist. "The movie starts at seven."

Tom glances at the clock. "It's half past six now. You couldn't be on time for your own bloody funeral."

Chris laughs. "I'll ring a taxi."

Tom spends half of the film behind his hands, and the other half sneaking glances at Chris. Eventually Chris takes his hand and holds it, the heat too much for Tom to bare. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and clears his throat, much to the annoyance of the woman in front of them who shushes him. 

Chris sniggers and leans in to whisper in Tom's ear but ends up kissing him instead. They miss the rest of the movie, only pulling away when the lights come up. They sit there for most of the credits and both end scenes, staring at one another breathlessly. 

"I love you," Tom says, unsure why. 

"I know," Chris says. "I know. I'm sorry." He leans forward and rests his forehead against Tom's, and it isn't clear whose tears are falling.

**Fin**


End file.
